


To be so Loved

by Chromadetta



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Character Study, First Love, Fluff, Found Family, Multi, Other, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromadetta/pseuds/Chromadetta
Summary: On the first Valentine’s Day that actually matters to Allister, he grapples with the concept the people in his life might legitimately care for him. And it’s not the crisis he was expecting to have on a day designed to capitalize on romantic love.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Onion | Allister & Saitou | Bea, Onion | Allister/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	To be so Loved

**Author's Note:**

> Allister is 13.  
> Gloria and Co. are around 16-17.  
> Bea is 19.
> 
> Enjoy!

Truth be told, Allister never thought he’d be one to fancy someone.

He was far too busy for something like that. He hasn’t had a lot to live for in his short life, but his ability as a trainer was the one thing he had going for him. Even if after all this time it still terrified him to walk out onto the pitch each season. The thrill battles offered was worth the anguish it took to face the deafening roar of the stadium. Packed to the brim with spectators; scrutinizing his every tilt or sway.

Then his shyness was an obstacle. Hard to develop a crush on someone if you’re a creep that hangs around cemeteries for fun and actively avoids the living. He went out for work only. And then he was glued to Bea’s side. His surrogate sister a beacon of safety he made sure never to stray far from lest he need to seek refuge from some predatory marketing agent or an overly social party-goer.

Still, he supposed that clinginess is what’s to blame if he’s narrowing down a source. Bea insisted he get out of the house while there was still daylight to be spoken for. Something about how he needs natural light to stay healthy and he’ll develop a deficiency if the only exposure to sunlight his body gets is reflected off the moon. No matter how much he grumbled about, he couldn’t say her claim was entirely unfounded. So, Allister dragged himself out of his midday slumber. Tossed on whatever looked presentable. And begrudgingly followed her down to the market of Stow-on-Side on a grocery run.

That decision was either the worst or best he’s ever made, he’s not sure yet. Because that’s when he first met _them_. If the sun wasn’t so darn bright, he might have done so more gracefully. But in squinting his way around the produce section, it wasn’t all that surprising to find he’d bumped into someone.

They were gorgeous for starters. That was one thing he could say about them without any hesitation at all. But, that wasn’t what caught his attention initially, knocked onto the cobbled streets of the marketplace. It was how unabashedly forward and earnest they were in making sure he was okay. That the items he’d been holding for Bea were okay. And, that they stayed and struck up a conversation once they’d both dusted themselves off.

Allister wasn’t used to such kindness from strangers. Or anybody really. Other than Bea at least. He wasn’t good at talking. He was far too nervous around people for that. Yet, they met each stutter unflinchingly. They prattled on about the mundane, asking questions here and there. And while Allister was positive he was boring them with every answer he struggled to supply, they would always be ready to encourage him to speak. Eager to listen to anything he had to say.

They even laugh at a couple of phrases. And at first, the gesture causes him to seize. The fear piercing his heart at what could only be a social misstep on his part. They’re making fun of his inadequacy. He knew they would eventually, there was only so long he could pretend to be proficient in the ways of interaction. But then, as they continue down the same thought with their own babbling, it dawns on him they’re delighting in his comment. On a collection of words he thought was utterly throw away with the purest look about them. They’re truly enjoying what he has to say. He knows he’s not witty enough to get that kind of laugh out of anybody. Yet despite what he knows to be true, there’s someone in front of him proving him wrong as he thinks it.

The absurdity of it all has him reeling.

When Bea finally turned up to bail him out after finding the ghost tailing her had been missing, he didn’t know whether he should be relieved or saddened by his approaching departure. Ultimately his desire to be altogether separate from the masses of the marketplace wins out, however. 

Before he can quickly duck into Bea’s shadow though, he hears the person call out for him grabbing his sleeve. They want to see him again. Allister’s stomach drops and his vision starts to warp the person before him in such a way he begins to feel faint. He utters a quick okay and pulls away. Darting toward his sister before the creeping anxiety consumes him completely.

They shout a time and place at him. He doesn’t really register it. He’s too busy trying to escape. Thankfully, Bea is more present. Noting the information down as soon as it’s yelled their way likely finding a stranger talking to her charge as disconcerting as he does. Allister doesn’t explain though. Just ushers her as fast as possible out of the market as they pick up the last of their list and head home.

When they return Bea is kind enough not to press too hard on the peculiar scene. She simply relays him the meeting details in case he decides to take them up on it. And Allister surprises even himself when he does.

The months pass and fall turns to winter. They see each other every other week. Sometimes sooner, rarely later. The anxiety their first encounter brought fades with each subsequent interaction. It isn’t long before Allister would dare to call them his friend. A close one even. And, as another month or two passes, maybe he begins to think of them as something a little bit more than that.

It was in an offhand spark of bravery that he mentioned to Bea he might try and do something special for them the coming Valentine’s Day. He could have stood to time it better as Bea had just returned from her morning run and decided to rehydrate right then. The coughing fit that ensued entirely his fault. Oddly enough, the reaction somehow helped set his resolve. He knew that being so bold to endure the implications of giving a gift during that window is not at all what people expected of him. And sometimes it felt rather nice to give them something to gawk at. It’s not like he was planning to confess anyways. Just hand them over a trinket of sorts. Maybe some chocolate. A thank you for being his friend.

In hindsight though, expressing such a sentiment to his sister shortly before she had planned to visit Milo was probably a mistake. Neither of the two was the gossiping type and Allister knew Bea would never intentionally betray him. Regardless, in spite of it all, the news Allister “has a crush and wants to confess to on Valentine’s Day,” made its rounds to every one of their colleagues within the hour. And when he and Bea are staring down a conference call that evening with all the league members begging to allow them to help ensure the baby of the team had an absolutely magical first Valentine’s Day, well. Allister begins to think joining his ghastly friends on the other side sounds like a delightfully splendid idea.

He supposes he could always refuse. But really, he could hardly claim to know what he was doing when it came to things like this. And Bea was equally if not more so hopeless at romance than him being a fair number of years older and pursuing precisely no one to his knowledge. So, he ultimately concludes it’s likely in his best interest to relent. Even if he’s pretty sure he’s going to hate himself for it later.

Of course, later comes sooner than anyone would prefer it to. And what later means to Allister at this current point in time is being confined to the cushioned seat of his desk chair as a handful of his fellow league mates bustled around the cramped space his bedroom afforded. 

Naturally, he was grateful for their dedication to the cause. But the amount of company he was subjected to was honestly more than he was comfortable with. And who was he to expect he’d have the entire Galar Pokemon League devoting their Valentine’s Day afternoon to helping him snag a partner? When they could literally be doing anything else. Like going on their own dates or carefully crafting their own confession plans.

And yet, somehow they all collectively decided they’d rather dote on him instead.

As it were, Raihan and Nessa were presently buried in a heated debate about which dress shirt complimented his complexion best. Poor Leon stood obediently in the corner holding the items of contention up for their viewing. Glancing back and forth with every quip that passed between them. If only he hadn’t insisted on being helpful he might have been lucky enough to escape the fate of being promoted to “living coat hanger.” Managing the Battle Tower alone surely gave the man plenty of excuses to get out of playing dress-up. Not to mention the fact he also presided over the whole of Macro Cosmos and the league itself. He had too big a heart for his own good.

At least Leon seems to have learned his lesson enough to pipe down in this instance. He tried offering his opinion to the two fashionistas quite early into their gathering and the glower they turned on him was enough to permanently seal his lips together for the rest of their session. Having seen Leon’s usual state of dress, Allister can’t help but agree that he isn’t qualified in any way, shape, or form to speak on the matter. But he can’t help but feel sorry he’d been shot down so harshly.

To his right, Bede and Marnie sit facing him having their own go at bickering. They were originally meant to swing by in order to bestow upon him all the details around the trends in teen romance. Which was pretty funny, considering neither of them have ever dated another person either. 

And he can kind of see why.

Given that he's known them for several years now, Allister is fully aware that the two are relatively good friends. All of Gloria's rivals from her league challenge are. But the longer he listens to their previously friendly banter devolve into thinly veiled passive-aggressive jabs at the other's love life, he's come to realize what that really ends up translating to is they both know exactly where to strike to make the deepest cut. And at this point, he knew more about their troubles than he honestly cared to.

Even with his own romantic agenda for the evening, he had half a mind to just go and knock out their confessions as well while he was at it. Embarrassing as that may be, he’s pretty sure it would be far less painful than listening to the two pick apart their flaws any further. And if you asked him, he’d be doing them a favor if they truly have it this bad for the object of their affection.

To his left, Kabu continues to sit quietly. Serenely resting his eyes amidst the chaos. He’s present for much the same reason Marnie and Bede are. To give pointers on how to properly woo a potential partner, just this time with the experience of someone who’s lived it a thousand times over and seen it all before. Though if he had to guess, Kabu had likely only volunteered to be sure Bede and Marnie in their inexperience didn’t steer him completely off course.

Allister’s amazed he’s able to maintain such a relaxed outward appearance when there’s so much happening around them. He emits a sense of calm that does wonders in putting Allister at ease. Though there’s a small, much more cynical part of him that is fairly certain the magic behind the curtain is that the older gentleman simply fell asleep. 

He sighs, slumping further down into his chair.

At the very least, it’s been fairly easy to tune out most everyone’s conversations up until this point. Allowing Allister to retreat peacefully into the recesses of his mind following wherever the rabbit trail leads through the weaving path of daydreams. He doesn’t get very far though before he’s shaken rather jarringly back into reality as his chair is spun around by Raihan to face the rest of the wardrobe department.

He gestures pointedly at his face. No doubt refuting Nessa’s claim he isn’t _that_ pale with a dead look in his eyes, raising a brow at his audience.

“Yes, he is.”

Nessa, used to Raihan’s dramatics, simply rolls her eyes and resumes organizing her latest clothing choices. “It’s too stuffy for the occasion.”

Raihan’s hand flys to his chest as he gapes at her in offense. It’s an expression Allister doesn’t get to see on his face very often, and he finds it highly amusing to see him look so scandalized.

“The kid’s whole motif is spook stuff! A black suit vest isn’t exactly a stretch,” He holds the outfit out over Allister’s thin frame, “and the silver accents bring out his eyes!”

Allister’s not exactly sure what to make of the notion that “silver brings out his eyes.” But it did look good. So, he can’t completely discount Raihan’s sensibilities. Still, Nessa isn’t one to fold so quickly on an area of expertise.

“It’s overkill.”

“It’s fancy!”

The two fall silent in a staredown. And with the way his skin begins to crawl, Allister finds this alternative to their dispute the far less desirable option.

Nessa is the first to break eye contact with a huff. She deposits what she’s gathered back onto Leon before gliding over to inspect Raihan’s garment choices. She picks up the fabric between her fingers regarding it with a look of methodical calculation Allister previously wouldn’t believe one could hold with clothes. Leaning in closer to him, she puts it up to his face in assessment. Allister doesn’t notice he’s holding his breath at the proximity until she steps back to readdress Raihan.

“I’ll admit it looks fine on him. But not for this.” She walks toward Leon and plucks her chosen outfit out of his arms once again. New outfit in tow, she spins Allister’s chair to face the mirror propped up onto his desk. She drapes the dressings over him as his reflection’s eyes stare owlishly back at him. “He’s not going to his first formal. He’s going to deliver flowers and some chocolate. He shouldn’t be dressed like he’s going to a soiree just for that.”

The ensemble Nessa touts consists of a pale purple button-up paired with grey slacks alongside a similarly colored bow and suspenders to match. It’s lighter than anything he can remember wearing. Certainly more cheery. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it. It’s fashionable to be sure, and he doesn’t particularly think he’ll look bad in it. But even though it’s close, he couldn't say he would've chosen it for himself. Of course, he’s not actually going to voice any of these opinions. But Raihan doesn’t share the same sentiment. He’s running at the mouth as soon as he’s given it a proper once over.

“Violet though?” Raihan crosses his arms, swaying back on his toes. “Pastels don’t exactly scream manly, Ness. You can’t set him up like that.”

Unfortunately, it’s fairly clear at this point Raihan’s grip on the situation has slipped out too far out of his favor. His fate is sealed as Nessa deadpans her response. 

“Raihan, it’s Valentine’s Day. Not a funeral. Let him have a little color in his life.”

With that, he seems to concede. Placing his arms behind his head, he strikes a pose reminiscent of the one he tends to default to whenever he loses a match.

“Fine. You win.” 

He pulls away to allow her the space she needs to fiddle with the bow she’s currently adjusting on Allister’s new dress shirt. The lull lasts only a few seconds as he regains his confidence, acting as if he never faltered to begin with. His retort slicing through the small room’s atmosphere. 

“But get the kid a deeper shade of purple at least. It’s important he stays at least kind of recognizable to the person he’s meeting with. Don’t want them to think something’s off just because he’s wearing something bright for once.”

After witnessing how seriously they take the task they’d committed to, Allister is sure Raihan’s words are going to trigger another set of arguments. But Nessa agrees as easily as if they hadn’t spent a good portion of the meeting aggressively debating fabric choices. She simply turns to Leon, seeing what he has on him that can sort the problem. Allister can’t help but blink a few times at the sight.

_So they can work together without a fight, huh?_

“You two could stand to learn from them, you know.” The new voice causes Allister to jolt as he whips his head in its direction. Kabu's sharp gaze stares down Marnie and Bede from the other side of his desk. They’ve ceased their squabbling at the minute, tearing away from each other to acknowledge they’ve been spoken to. “Even when they don’t agree, they’re able to put it aside to serve the greater picture.”

Bede opens his mouth to protest, but Kabu firmly holds up a hand to silence him.

“You’re here to help Allister, are you not? Your own shortcomings aren’t what’s important right now. You’ve been asked to offer what guidance you have to give to help out your friend. Instead you’ve selfishly made it about yourselves.” 

All of a sudden Bede seems to have gained an intense interest in one of the shadowed corners of the room. Similarly, Marnie appears to be intent on memorizing the patterns within the carpet. Nevertheless, Kabu’s eyes burn as bright as the flames he commands to his will on the battlefield as he relentlessly digs into them.

“It’s up to you to solve your problems on your own time. Don’t forget what you came here to do.” 

His scolding concluded, Kabu returns to his relaxed posture as if he hadn’t just caused the two youngsters to completely wither under his harsh tone. His attention passing easily from them to the scenic view outside Allister’s windowsill.

Spared from further lashing, Bede’s gone beet red, a frown resolutely painted on his features, and his brows furrowed. Marnie’s faring better at maintaining a neutral front. But Allister can see her face has still managed to contort slightly. Her cheeks dusted pink and her mouth set in a tight line.

Their phrases are more halted after that. Far more deliberate and rightfully cautious. Still, despite how stiffly they conduct themselves, Kabu’s reprimanding seems to have garnered the desired effect. Both have refrained from casting any more verbal stones at each other, and in doing so have actually been able to pass on some relevant advice. Going as far as to even agree with and support each other's ideas. 

It’s all terribly generic for the most part. But it’s sound, and the fact they’re trying is the important part. So, Allister does his best to absorb their words. Internalizing them in hopes they’ll prove useful at some point, if not today.

Eventually, they begin to run out of things to say. Their limited knowledge exhausted rather quickly. Before it can dwindle off completely, however; Marnie rummages through her purse to grace him with a neatly folded paper. A gift from Piers, she said. Apparently the former gym leader was determined not to let such an occasion go by without a contribution of his own. Even if he wasn’t there to see it through. Inside the paper in a script surprisingly delicate for a man so jaded, was a simple poem speaking of young love and the whimsy of the winter season. It’s no wonder, Piers being the master lyricist that he is. But it’s beautifully written, and the warmth the words radiate bloom from the page to blossom within Allister’s chest.

He thanks Marnie, but she waves away the thought citing that her brother would prefer he pay it no mind. After all, he wasn’t the type to leave one of his old league chums out in the cold without his assistance, retirement or world tours be damned.

And it’s strange. This whole scenario he’s in. From the moment he joined the roster of Galar’s elite, Allister held his newfound teammates in high esteem. Over the years, he began to think of them as a family of sorts. He might not have been particularly close to any of them, but they were a constant. And a plethora of galas, sponsored events, training sessions, and generally watching the lot act like overgrown children only fostered his fondness further. But he never really had it in him to believe they cared about him too. He was too young. Too shy. Too scared. Too anxious. Someone who had to wear a literal mask to get through the day. He wasn’t anything like them. All infinitely more confident than him living in the limelight. A million times more sure-footed in their interactions with each other.

Yet, despite everything, they do care. About the weird ghost kid, who while just as capable, was an odd blemish amongst this lineup of legends. It’s still nearly impossible to believe, even with all the people working in the spirit of chasing his happiness alongside him. To desire so strongly to play a role in this pathetically minuscule moment of his existence simply because they hold him just that close in their hearts.

_It’s a funny feeling_ , Allister muses. _To be so loved._

But suddenly he’s made acutely aware of the evidence for it written all over every action.

Like the gentle way Nessa runs the brush through his hair. Carefully fixing each part and sorting stubborn tresses. How she squeezes his shoulder and softly reassures him that everything’s going to be okay when the tension in his posture becomes too much to ignore.

The way Raihan seems to be making a special effort to keep cracking jokes. They aren’t even funny half the time, but they take his mind off his nerves and Raihan seems to notice they do. His smiles seem less guarded and his laughs a little lighter. Allister can’t help but notice that his rotom-phone, an item that’s practically an extension of his body, has been nowhere to be seen the entire afternoon.

He sees it in the way Bede takes extra time deciding which words to speak when offering his expertise. Actively retracing over phrases to ensure nothing can be misconstrued, determined to mitigate any heartache that could befall his colleague as a result of his own admittedly untested guidance.

It’s present in how Marnie carries herself when she asks him to tell her all about this special person he adores so much. He rambles on clumsily, stammering in every sentence. But she stays quiet for its entirety, hanging onto every word. Only when he’s exhausted everything he can possibly think to say does she finally speak. She tells him they sound like an absolutely wonderful person.

He even feels it in the way Leon tries his best to make himself useful in any way he can. Shirking duties to stand around holding things until they’re needed, shooting him cheery grins whenever he catches his eye and getting so completely turned around after heading off to make tea it’s already lukewarm by the time he finds his way back to Allister’s room.

And it’s there when Kabu takes him aside in the hallway while everyone else settles in the living room to wait for the other members. Finally relaxing after a job well done. He drops to a knee to be a little closer to Allister’s level before following through with his end of the bargain to give his guidance as Bede and Marnie did. Eyes clouding with a far of wistfulness as he does.

\--------

By the time the rest of their league mates trickle into Allister’s and Bea’s humble abode, he dares to think he might actually be starting to relax.

He’s so relieved to see Bea’s face again when she passes over the threshold, Milo in tow. He offers them a refreshing smile and pleasant greeting before gracing their sights with an exquisitely arranged bouquet. It’s filled with the most delicate assortment of petals and greenery and the colors are positively mesmerizing as Allister pads over to take in the artistry.

Having never been one for plant life, he’s unable to note any of the flowers by name. Though that hardly serves to dampen the appreciation he feels for what Milo personally procured from the florist himself. Overseeing the entire process to ensure only the best were selected.

He’s swiftly pulled out of his marveling as Gloria makes her grand entrance. Loud as ever, she announces her presence with a shout as she barrels through the door. Opal, in all her love of theatre, strolls in far more subdued. The old woman shaking her head and muttering how that girl can’t do anything with grace. As stern as she sounds Allister’s sure she means it fondly. No matter how brash Gloria can be, no one seems to be able to stay cross with her for long.

The two come bearing the gift of homemade baked goods, specifically cookies, neatly wrapped in a heart-shaped box with an expertly tied bow on top. It’s so perfectly done it looks as if it was professionally assembled at some fancy shop in Wyndon. Miss Opal really outdid herself with the presentation.

Allister’s still mildly surprised Bede hadn’t been designated to bake alongside Miss Opal. He was her special prodigy after all. Though allegedly it was Gloria’s doing. Having put the event together and being rather insistent she not take part in the teen romance panel, he’d been appointed instead. According to her, not a lot of people could “handle this” and with legions of adoring fans fawning over him, Bede was the ideal candidate. Plus, this way Allister would have a much needed “male perspective” she and Marnie couldn’t offer.

He’s certain Bede didn’t go down without a fight, but Gloria is tenacious as they come, and not an easy one to beat on any front. So naturally he didn’t stand a chance.

Finally Melony and Gordie swing by. Together, they are the last of the leaders expected to be in attendance. Their assignment was to prepare chocolates as is traditional for a Valentine’s Day offering. Melony chuckles as she informs Allister it nearly drove their family apart, but the rest of Gordie’s siblings pitched in too so the chocolates should be filled with the entire household's well wishes. Gordie shoots him finger guns saying he looks real cool in his fancy getup. Allister doesn’t feel very cool with the bow around his neck restricting blood flow, but it’s a nice thought anyway.

\--------

With everyone present and time to spare, the group makes small talk. Gloria regales her cooking adventures with Opal and Melony and Gordie follow suit with their own baking tales. Raihan asks Marnie how Piers is faring, having been dead to the world since he returned from his Unova tour a couple of months ago. She says he’s fine, just taking some much needed time to recharge.

Allister tries to listen. To be polite if nothing else. But as the clock hands move closer to their 4 o’clock mark the deafening beat of his accelerating heart rate is making it increasingly more difficult to concentrate. So he allows his attention to wander, settling on observing Leon as he sweeps into the room. 

Leon’s new role was to cause a distraction in the busier areas of the city to offer Allister an extra bid of privacy as arguably the most famous amongst them next to Gloria. To do so, however; he was going to have to be identifiable to the masses, and as such had slipped away to don his more recognizable attire. Raihan flits about him, dedicated to helping Leon preen. Carefully he adjusts each moving piece, making subtle shifts to his snapback, evening buttons, and ensuring his tie is placed just so.

Watching Raihan fuss over Leon has a calming quality about it that Allister didn’t completely understand himself. He supposes it’s likely because it’s something he’s grown so used to between them. A consistent rhythm he could latch onto during league events they were all present for when he needed to quell his racing mind. But he also suspects it’s the comfortable way they ebb and flow. The way they make things seems so easy between them. Everything seems far more normal when they’re like that. So Allister is thankful he has it as a separate distraction when the conversation that drones around him becomes too much.

But time waits for no one, and Allister’s stomach drops when he hears the old grandfather clock chime its weary tone. Bea, dutifully seated by his side as he awaits the inevitable, is the first to say what they’re all thinking. 

“Well, it’s time. Are you ready?”

Her words are what makes it real and Allister thinks he’s going to be sick. They’re all staring, and his head is spinning, and he can’t take it. 

“I d-don’t know…” He chokes out. He moves to stand, but the carpet immediately begins to sway beneath his feet. The scenery has distorted into several layers of fluctuating waves and he can’t keep himself steady when nothing around him wants to be stable either.

He teeters off balance and luckily Bea’s reflexes are sharp as ever as she rushes to catch him. The other league members around them snap to attention as they collectively begin to realize Allister is suddenly very worse for wear. Marnie, Gloria, and Bede have risen in an instant, flocking to hover over him and his sister. The older members excuse themselves to the kitchen in an effort Allister assumes is meant to allow him some space.

“H-hey we did everything we could to set you up for success, alright?” Bede blurts out. There’s a slight edge to his voice as he pauses a few feet away. “There’s no need to pass out on us, you’re going to do just fine.”

Marnie and Gloria push past him to inspect the boy closer, the two better practiced in the art of helping others, as Bea slowly lowers him onto the couch. The girls plop down beside him while Bede takes his seat more gracefully, a few paces behind. Marnie reaches out a hand, softly placing it on his arm. She keeps her voice low as she gingerly tries to talk him down from his surmounting panic.

“We’re all rootin’ for you, you know? Just do your best. We’ll be here for you when you come back and everythin’ will be fine.”

Gloria peers over her shoulder flashing him a restrained for his sake version of her trademark smile.

“She’s right, Alli. You really do got this, hen.”

The room is no longer adhering to the idea he’s going ‘round on a carousel. But that doesn’t mean he’s cured of his worry. A pep talk numbs the fear one feels to the problems of the world, but it certainly doesn’t solve them.

“ _Sure I do_.”

He knows it sounds sarcastic. It is sarcastic. But what did they honestly expect him to say? The false sense of security their words afforded him was a lot easier to buy into earlier in the day when willing his feet toward his possible doom seemed like a distant suggestion. A decision he didn't have to make yet.

Marnie’s face twitches into a slight pout at that. Any facial shifts she experiences are so subtle Allister knows if it’s observable the comment wounded her more strongly than he wants to acknowledge.

They care. Of course they do. But he wishes that they wouldn’t. They didn’t have to waste their time on childish whims that everyone but him had the time to outgrow. They could have left him to deal with his idiotic pipe dreams in peace, but no. They’re here in his house, worrying themselves over nothing as he sinks into his couch, paralyzed by fear. Ready to undo nearly a full day’s work simply because the panic that seized him was so all encompassing he’d be a miracle worker if he managed to claw his way out of it. Everyone was about to have wasted their effort on him and there would be no one else to blame but himself.

He doesn’t deserve Marnie’s kindness. So, he removes his arm from her touch, throwing it over his face to shield himself from their scrutiny. He has to do something. Anything to hide his shame as he features scrunch up and he has to put all his willpower into ending the rebellion behind his eyes. Where was his mask when he needed it?

The cushions shift and Gloria’s voice rings out a little closer than it was before.

“If all else fails, I’ve got all the ice cream in the world back at mine for us to indulge in if it goes to the wayside at any point.” Allister immediately hears Bede scoff at that.

“I highly doubt the promise of eating his weight in ice cream is going to dull the blow of rejection, Gloria.”

She lets out a pointed huff and he’s sure the pause that follows contains a glare most fierce.

“What I’m _trying_ to say is even if you make a right fool of yourself, it’s not going to be the end of the world. And tonight when it’s all over, even if they’re not, we’ll still be here. You’ll always have us. So don’t worry so much, okay?”

He has no way to know if they mean it. If they’ll actually be there for him when he comes home or any day after that. He’d like to pretend the care they’d shown him wasn’t something so fleeting it’d slip through his fingers come sundown. It didn’t matter what he’d like to think though. The love they’ve been so kind to shower him with meant nothing if it ends up being an isolated incident. All they’ve proven was he could be their pet project for a week. Tomorrow was a new day. Who’s to say they’d even think to look his way whenever it is they meet again?

Despite the weakness in their argument, he knows at the core of it they’re right. He could wait forever if he wanted, but he’d only end up regretting it. What-ifs have the power to destroy a man when they’re old and grey. If there’s a chance at happiness to be had, it’d be wasteful not to pursue it regardless of if it might not work out in your favor.

He's already seen far too much hesitation from the very people offering him encouragement. For all intents and purposes, they're very much a group of cowards and hypocrites to preach throwing caution to the wind as insistently as they are without anything to show for it themselves. That was easy enough to gather from Bede and Marnie's arguing alone. But even then, there had been a plethora of other instances he'd witnessed throughout their time in the league together. Gloria included. They’re all too busy running from their own insecurities to have the right to lecture him about his.

But you know what? he’s better than that.

Allister feels the nausea wash over him like a punch to the gut the moment he forces himself upright, but he bites it back down through sheer spite alone.

He’d heard stories of Leon and Raihan practically killing themselves over the level of anguish they subjected themselves to pining from afar. 

And he wasn’t about to allow himself to administer that kind of self-inflicted torture.

This was a rip-the-band-aid-off scenario and Allister’s not interested in playing the waiting game like the rest of the leaders around his age. It doesn’t matter if the older kids aren’t strong enough to take their own advice. He is.

_And he was going to do this._

“Alright, fine,” Allister whispers, sliding off the couch and onto his feet. “I’ll be off then. Just let me put my shoes on.”

The trio monitoring him let out simultaneous sighs of relief as he trudges over to the door. He pretends not to notice the little fistbump Gloria does as he jams his feet into the ebony oxfords Nessa assigned to him. Leon walks up to do the same, slipping his coat and public persona on in one fell swoop.

They’re nearly on their way before a shout from the hall grabs his attention. Glancing over his shoulder he sees Bea peering from the living room entrance.

“Hey, Alli?

“Y-yeah?”

The corners of her mouth turn up, granting him the rarity of a small smile. 

“Go get ‘em.” 

Those three words fill him with more confidence than anything else has all day. And he returns her grin before she’s out of sight leaving him alone at the door with Leon once more.

“Well, you heard her,” Leon says. His own smile playing on his lips as he strides forward. 

“Let’s go.”

\--------

Allister sets a brisk pace down the roads of the city. The streets already seem clearer since he parted ways with Leon. Given the twenty minutes that have passed since then, Allister assumes his plan has gone on without a hitch. 

When Allister at last reaches the wall at the edge of one of the town's famous cliff faces, he’s running. The darkened silhouette against the setting sun prompting his legs to carry him ever faster. He gasps for air when they turn to face him. Before today he never thought to curse his stick-like limbs and lack of interest in cardio, but there’s a first time for everything. 

They hurriedly jump off their perch, quick to check if he’s alright. And he is, truly. It’s just the twilight hours suit them far too well, and it’s not helping the breathing situation.

He’s wheezing, and it’s gross, and he’s honestly mortified this is the start of what could be one of the most important moments of his life. 

All the while they’re waiting, regarding him patiently. Taking in the bundles he’s holding and fancy attire as they do. Still, he tries to expedite his recovery the best he can, gripping the parcels in his arms like a lifeline.

When the wind can properly pass in and out of his lungs, he’s upright in an instant thrusting the bouquet and containers of sweets toward them. Allister stumbles over every word that follows. But he likes to think he gets the gist of what he wants to communicate out effectively enough. How it’s Valentine’s Day and he couldn’t let it go by without getting them a gift because they deserve it for being such a great friend. And maybe he likes them more than that, what a crazy thought, haha.

And putting it all out there isn’t all that bad, Allister finds.

It’s the silence that follows that nearly kills him.

They thank him for telling them, graciously accepting the gifts. Then they’re alone in the deafening quiet.

The hush that’s fallen over them amplifies every whistle against stone in each passing breeze. His pulse rages in his ears, drumming so loudly he can hardly stand it. Every muscle in his body is wound tight. Each minute that crawls by has him increasingly convinced he’s ruined everything.

An eternity passes before they finally speak, and Allister is alert; ready to take in their every statement.

And the universe halts all movement as they do.

They tell him they don't know quite what to say. That they don't know if they reciprocate his feelings or not. But, that they’re happy he’s in their life now and he’s an important part of it regardless of whether they return his affections.

Just as they are uncertain where their feelings lie, Allister’s own are now in fierce conflict. 

His heart nearly shatters in the wake of their words. There’s a part of him that wants to torch the hope fluttering in his ribcage to the ground. He was going to have to steel himself for the pain that might follow their answer again another day. Something he very much didn’t look forward to after all it took to mentally fortify himself to endure it once.

All the same, there's a side of him that was absolutely thrilled. The current state of neutrality left just as good a chance at a later date. That alone was worth celebrating.

In the end though, that wasn’t what brought Allister to the happiness settling inside him at the sight of the person to his left. Learning he may not be able to stay by their side the way he so desired still left him as wounded as he thought it would. But when it was all said and done, they were still the wonderful friend he’d made. And watching the final rays of sunlight get caught in their eyelashes as they gaze out into the neverending horizon, Allister knows that’s more than enough.

They allow the silence to envelop them once more. This time though, it's a peaceful, comfortable lull as the two huddle closer to ward off the persistent winter chill. The clouds’ hue transitions from a golden glow to a purple haze. And slowly the deep indigo of the night cascades over the town. As the street lamps flicker to life around them, Allister couldn’t ask for a better way to conclude tonight.

He’s about to mention he should probably head home soon, saddened to end the delicate tranquility that entangled them. The opportunity never comes to pass, however; as the spell is broken not by him, but the person at his side. Their gaze meets his as they peer at him through the darkness 

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer quite as extravagant as what you had for me,” they say gesturing to the flowers and boxes surrounding them. “But, I did bring something that I thought might be fun if you’re still up for it.”

Allister shoots them a quizzical look but they just grin cheekily, rummaging through their belongings. From the depths of their bag they produce a small speaker. He quirks an eyebrow unsure of exactly what they’re asking him to do. They just shush him, fiddling with the buttons.

The device crackles to life as it begins to push the first lilting notes of a song into the cool night’s air. A soulful piano tune ringing up toward the heavens. Hopping off the ledge, they do a skipping step and a twirl only to end up standing in front of him, still seated and terribly confused.

With a bit of a flourish, they bow for him. Then, they reach out to take both his hands in theirs, tugging gently.

“Dance with me.”

Allister almost yanks his hand back so hard he'd be sure to topple off the cliffside and into the water below had he followed through with the motion.

“D-dance? I don’t… I don’t know how to dance.” He must be making quite a face because they burst into a stream of giggles at his reply. Nevertheless, they don’t let go, much the opposite in fact. They lean in close as if confessing to a secret. 

“Neither do I.” Their eyes glimmer with boundless mirth as they pull him forward more firmly this time. “But as far as I can tell...”

He’s so captivated by them Allister barely pays it any mind when his feet touch the ground. At which point he slid off the wall, he doesn’t remember.

They lead him to the center of the walkway, the warmth from their palms keeping the cool temperatures at bay better than his coat ever could.

And then they’re spinning. Whirling through the vacant city streets with reckless abandon. They only stop when his friend digs their heels in suddenly, catching Allister in their arms before he spins too far out of their reach. And low, by his ear he hears them whisper--

“... That’s the best part.”

\--------

Under stray moonbeams and faded lamplight, he wonders if life has always been this beautiful. And he's never been so grateful to be alive, placing a tentative hand on their shoulder as they guide their waltz across the pavement.

There is a sorrow shrouded within the depths of his euphoria. Pieces of heartache he’d rather never acknowledge. But even then, the truth remained that it would find him eventually. 

No, he couldn’t deny the way his heart flutters in his chest at their laughter or the way his cheeks flush at their teasing. How he dreams of holding their hand as they run through the marketplace or how he never wants their evening rendezvous to end.

Even though there’s still hope they’ll find happiness together, he has to make peace with the possibility all he’ll be to them is their dearest companion. The thought of anything else becoming nothing more than a forgotten daydream.

They’ll grow older, meet new people. One day he’ll be able to move on. But for now, he’ll covet these stolen moments a little longer. Grateful they’d been allowed to happen at all.

\--------

Allister stumbles into his front garden on shaky legs. Partially due to nearly sprinting all the way home. But also because he’s overwhelmed, the intensity of his emotions too heavy a burden to bear for this long.

He wants to go straight to his room, fall flat on his face, and scream into a pillow. It seems like the most efficient way to decompress. Every fibre of his being wants to scream as it was, so he’s sure that’s the best solution.

A quiet end to the night would be too much of a blessing though, and the poor lad is ambushed before he can even think to fumble for his keys. Gloria, Marnie, and Bede descend upon him in a flash. Ever faithful in their vow they’d await his return, they stare down at him in anticipation. Eagerly awaiting his report of the evening at the edge of their seat. And while their interrogation has them each at varying levels of intensity, their curiosity is equally matched as they fire off questions.

“How’d it go?” 

“Do they like you back?” 

“Did you get to kiss them?”

He answers their queries to the best of his ability. His eyes catching Bea's as she leans against the doorframe listening just as intently.

With every passing question the resolve to hold himself together steadily weakens. Everything is magnified a million times, and it’s too much. 

There comes a point where it’s impossible to keep his composure any longer. And when it finally crumbles completely Allister’s not surprised to feel the first drops of wetness streaming down his cheeks.

His friends recoil at the sudden shift in his demeanor, quickly apologizing if they’re prodding had caused him any distress.

That wasn’t it, but Allister is at a loss on how to ease their concerns when the words wouldn’t come.

Marnie and Gloria reach for him, placing a soothing hand on his arm and shoulder. And it means the world, but he doubted anything could stop his sobs at this point. Allister was too weak as it was, far too exhausted to muster up the strength to try.

Gloria begins to frown, rapidly blinking back at him.

“Stop it, Alli. If you keep crying like that, you’re going to make me cry too.”

Allister takes a moment to internally apologize to her as the droplets only propel themselves faster from his tear ducts.

And just as before, Gloria keeps good on her word; eyes glistening with newfound wetness. Then her arms are around him and she’s weeping too. Mourning along with Allister over everything and nothing at all.

Another set of arms loop around him and the gentle pressure they apply leads him to believe they belong to Marnie. The gesture followed by a soft sniffle as another joins their tearful union.

They’re huddled together, sobbing in the walkway of his front garden. The champion, the second-highest ranked gym leader in the region, and lowly Allister clinging to each other as they fall apart. It's a wildly surreal experience. And while he possessed little faith in his own ability not to break, he expected his fellow peers to be above that.

Though in truth, the tears soaking Gloria’s sweater had no sorrow to their name. Each droplet a result of the overflowing happiness of a day that dragged on far too long. The joy felt to be surrounded by people who cherished you when you couldn't summon the courage to cherish yourself.

It’s a scary feeling. It leaves Allister vulnerable to an insurmountable hurt should he ever be met with its absence again. And yet it can be so frustratingly aggravating he wants to throw up his hands and be done with it. 

But mostly, it fills him with a happiness he once believed to be locked behind storybook pages and fairytales. And Allister is very much aware he doesn’t deserve half of what he has already. This on top of everything is more than he should ever be allotted. And it’s dizzying to think it’s truly part of his reality.

Because he’s simply not yet used to being this loved.

Though now that he’s come to know the feeling, he doubts it possible to brave a world without the family he’s found in his league mates. A world without them, he decides, would be one far too bleak to imagine. And he’ll never take their care for granted as long as he lives.

But for now, he’s tired. More tired than Allister thinks he’s been in a long time.

As the tremors that wrack his body shudder to a stop, he feels himself begin to slip in and out of consciousness in his friends’ arm. Slowly the comforting warmth of being held is disentangled from him, and Allister wants to protest such an injustice before he’s being cradled again. He’s being lifted someplace, but it’s hard to be bothered about where.

The weight of the shoes on his feet are removed. The scratchy insides of his coat no longer rubbing at his skin as it’s shed from him. Then suddenly the world is soft. 

A pleasant weight is draped over him. He pulls it in tighter, content to be cocooned in the familiar quilted material.

There’s a gentle press to his forehead, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. The room is dimmer than he remembers it being, though it’s hard to tell with his eyelids glued closed.

It’s very comfortable. Much more comfortable than the pavement outside. That much Allister can ascertain with confidence. Though as he sinks further into the mass of pillows and blankets, coherent thought becomes a lost relic of wakefulness. And then he’s drifting, drifting… Further and further into nothingness. Until at last, a dreamless sleep carries him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
